Poster #2

Our 2nd collaborative poster. RW & AW.

Snapshots

Different breeds of dogs were everywhere, sprinting, swimming and sniffing the zones of one another. The sun was out and bold and the ocean was of cold temperature, so cold we almost blacked out when dunking our heads under. A shiny seal popped up about 20 yards from shore. Dolphins appeared, arching graceful and grey. We sat in the sand, digging our heels in like toddlers. I closed my eyelids half-way and showed my face to the sun, some psychedelic swirl happened from the mix of blue and orange. I closed my eyes completely and saw a bright black. Fishing boats bobbed way out there looking like some strange mirage. The conditions were damn near perfect and we felt honored to be part of the scene.

Moon Hoot

Our first collaborative poster. RW & AW

She's put us in Frames

She's reading Hebrews in bed. Rough was the night and nice was the moon. The wind smells like Fall. Her locked gate allows for an unlocked screen door. We're both scared shitless of those man-eating wolves because of the movie we watched last night. That new blue sweatshirt looks great on her. Her raven black hair falls to the pillow, the tips, the ends, graze my right elbow, an "angel's tickle". I can't tell if she's asleep or not. I love her like mad. The word "forever" seems easy around her. San Francisco, LA, New York, wherever seems possible. We share a blanket now. She's put us in frames. She says she loves me and I really do believe her. Her eyes tell the truth. I put my right hand on her neck and my left hand on her low back, inquiring. She arches slow. I grab her thigh then slide North to her hip hips. There's always a sweet way to wake a woman from dream. Tonight I'll try, ya I'll roll the proverbial dice. She's put the Bible down, too tired. That new blue sweatshirt looks great on her. RW

Build a Home

Oct.8,2012.Monday.1:00pm Yesterday, some weird ballet. All we needed was YES glue & a box of paints. Ideas can be frozen & sold, painted, plastered & ideally set free. There's something in the brain that is released when we create in a healthy style. Whether we knead bread, hammer a nail or build a home, there will inevitably be a sense of accomplishment. A design working properly. All styles of paper were scattered on the floor. A teapot posed still and cold for it had finished it's job hours ago. Empty glasses of wine sat buzzed on the shelf. The room looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane of shapes & colors. Amongst the ruin, we emerged from our own brain storm, stood back & just laughed. Yesterday, some weird ballet.

The Pike

A Coors Light coaster turning ship & her eyes glowed again. We chatted bout the road ahead and what a parade it could be, the dust we could leave behind us. When you make plans with someone you love, your journey immediately becomes more powerful, maybe double what it used to be. She sat there and sketched on her coaster, looking up & back down, referencing the hand-carved vessel which balanced beneath the liquor shelf. She's my blue-eyed pearl, my Laleczka. She sipped her whiskey. RW

Sip from a Stranger

Somewhere off Willow St. in Long Beach, the shop smells of Naan & spices. Inside,there are three oscillating fans, rickety & loud. The glass case that encloses the tin trays of food is sweating. There's one customer listening to a pocket radio propped on the table. On the counter, sits a mini-figurine of Shiva & a small vase stuffed with toothpicks. I order a plate of food and ask for hot tea. The owner looks at me a bit puzzled, almost impressed. He points to a table(signal to sit) and disappears through the tapestry draped over the doorway. Five minutes later, he appears from the back of the shop, walks to where I am and sets down a steaming cup. He walks away before I have time to say thank you. I sip. It's perfect, pure, unlike anything. This man, once a stranger is now a friend, for he has shared with me a secret, a tradition, his routine. I turn in my seat and lift my cup in a salute of respect to the shop owner. He answers with a kind nod and disappears through the tapestry draped over the doorway. The best things in life are never on the menu. I will visit this magician again, somewhere off Willow St. in Long Beach. RW

Detroit Bar

Sometimes it just feels sweet to fly off the handle.

The Easy Burden

The hot talk is surrounding the idea of sustaining the earth and its resources. I tip my hat to that conversation and to the leaders of that pack. But.... my friends, let us not forget to sustain each other, to sustain relationships, to carry the weight of one another's trials, to sharpen & elevate the souls of those around us. For what good is a world full of abundant resources if the spirits of its residents are depleted? RW

Blue Money

We visited that local Irish Pub, Huntington Beach, Ca. She ordered a Guinness. The house band was too loud and we think they used a wind machine, blowing their hair back and drying their sweat. I twisted the rings on her fingers, occasionally kissing the top of her hand. One pint was enough at this joint. Out the door and on to the next scene. She opens the door for me from the passengers side. Just cause my handle's broke doesn't mean the engine don't go. It fire's up like the first roar of a baby lion. We screech out of the parking lot into Saturday night. A Merle Haggard tape struggles out the speakers, it sounds like his band is making popcorn. We pull into somewhere new. The door guy checks her I.D. and as I reach for mine he says, "Nah, you're good." The pool tables are upholstered with cheetah print and there's waterfall screen savers playing on the TV's. The bartender makes eye-contact with her boobs and looks at me like we've had beef for years. One pint was enough at this joint. Out the door and on to the next scene. We decide to return home. At least we have a sense of humor and we never judge anything for too long. What I really wanted that evening I finally received, cold Chardonnay & her blue money. RW